phases

it's been about a week and i think i'm ready to discuss last weekend's events. (i think.) let me start by saying last saturday at 10am i was one bloody mary deep, floating around a lake in a kayak (in my pajamas, mind you) with a beer between my legs...this saturday at 10am i was at a pumpkin patch slash petting zoo birthday party with my two kids. i was feeding a goat. so you see, sometimes parenting is about perspective. would i rather be paddling around a (quiet) lake in the early morning hours...rather than smelling goat shit? sure. however, watching my two children have fun makes the goat shit option almost more appealing. (almost.) moreover, when you do actually get a break from the madness...you go through a coupla phases. (at least i do.) the first phase is what i call the freedom phase. it happens when you actually drive away towards your destination and your children are safely clothed in the care of someone else. you have a moment (at least butch and i did) of acting like mel gibson in braveheart. we rolled down the windows of the car, turned the music up and i swear on the tip of both of our tongues was, "they can take our lives, but they'll never take...OUR FREEDOM!!!" ok, so it's not that dramatic, but almost. when you don't have to provide 24 hour care (for the whole weekend) for the people you call your offspring...it's pretty awesome. (at first.) my dad was in charge of the kids when we left and they were both sleeping. he asked me what the chances were of carrie waking up with shit in her pants. (i told him pretty high.) he told me he was going to hose her down if that happened. i knew that wasn't true, but i would be lying if i said i wasn't praying for poop. (please!)

after a friday night of campfires and fun filled events, all participants of chet's place weekend extravaganza woke up ready to indulge in the hair of the dog the next day. (hence, the bloody mary's aforementioned.) there were 7 long time friends (i'm talking, since kindergarten some of them), and 3 of their significant others. (10 assholes, total.) i often wonder how some of us have remained friends for so long, but as one of my compadre's puts it...no one else can stand us. (true.) i am lucky to have married "one of the group," because lord knows i would hold my breath if i had to bring a person of interest into the melee. at one point one of these 'outsiders' turned to me and said (over a game of shuffleboard, beers in hand), "so is this what we are going to do all weekend?!" well...if you are referring to drinking, laughing, games and nonsense...yes. (sorry to disappoint.) growing up in a small town, we are all no stranger to simply enjoying each other's company. give us a campfire, a case of beer and each other...and we are good to go. however, if you happen to throw in a rocking chair...the boys will perform stunts late night, such as sitting (and rocking) in the chair over a live fire. (impressive.) the next cabin over was another group of friends, that were exactly like us...but about 20 years older. (fun, fun people.) they joined us for most of our "activities." however, after one night of mayhem, i moved into phase two of operation no kids for the weekend. phase two includes me actually starting to miss my children. when i woke up that morning my inner mel gibson was no longer yelling, i rolled over and said to butch, "i kinda miss them." he said, "i'm sorry, but i can't share that sentiment just yet." (ok then.)

saturday included throwing our group out into the general population. by general population i mean attending an event called "frontier days" at a local bar. this bar was so far out of the way that we all just hopped in the back of a pickup truck and took several dirt roads to get there. (yeehaw.) when we arrived, it felt like we went back in time a few (hundred) years. there were bands, flags, and hillbillies a plenty. (it was glorious.) the beer was cheap, the bands were bangin', and the ambiance was beautiful. now when we arrived, please keep in mind that we had been boozin' since the early morning bloody mary's. most of us were dressed in flannel and boots...except for my husband who thought a penn state jersey was much more appropriate. let's just say he really "stood out"...people started referring to him as the "penn state guy" and when he started busting (several) moves on the dancefloor (grass), he drew some (a lot of) attention. i'm not sure where some of these moves came from, as i have known him since 6th grade (and attended several dances with him) and have never seen them. my guess is the beer and lake breeze had a lot to do with it, but he looked like a drunk puppet...with god pulling the strings. his arms and legs were flailing about in an unnatural fashion and he seemed to have no control over his extremities. people thought this was hilarious. (as did i.) i guess he can check "dancing like a drunk puppet to country music" off of his bucket list. (score!)

chet's place.

right before we all climbed back in the pickup truck to come back to the cabin, butch spotted a mechanical bull nearby. (oh boy.) the guy was just setting up and warren wandered over and asked him for a ride. the operator had a waiver he had to sign. now remember, motor skills were compromised at this point. one of our group members was nearby and witnessed him grab the waiver, put a large check mark over the fine print and then "sign" (using that loosely) his name. on the line where he was supposed to put the date, he wrote..."TODAY." then turned and laughed like a hyena. pretty sure if he broke his back or something on that ride, the waiver would not hold up in court. that's probably a good thing, as he was in no shape to be riding a goddamn bull. (mechanical or otherwise) i was not witness to the ride, but i'm sure it was shortlived and painful to watch. he also threw his phone in the grass nearby in an attempt to not break it. (more about that later.) as most of us waited in the back of the pickup, we wondered what the hell was taking the rest of the group so long. i had no idea that my husband choosing to ride a mechanical bull was holding everyone up. however, when he hopped into the truck and told us the story...i was not surprised in the least. truth be told, none of us really remember the ride back to the cabin down that long dirt road. at that point, we were feeling no pain. i do remember, however, that i was moving into phase three of operation no kids for the weekend. phase three is where your heart starts to ache and shitty diapers don't seem so bad. (i call this the wtf phase.)

sunday morning i woke up and i shit you not, i felt like i had been through a war. instead of fighting with weapons, i was under an attack with alcohol. now i know, it is no secret that i enjoy a cocktail or five every now and again. i happen to enjoy a glass (bottle) of wine during girls night with fen or a bunch of beers accompanied by a wings and a football game. i mean, i'm no stranger to the sauce. i will say, though...i am not good as i once was. (thank you, toby keith.) when i tell you that my internal organs (namely my liver and kidneys) were screaming that morning, i am being serious. (it was not good.) warren was complaining of his whole body hurting (bull riding was a bad idea), and also mentioned that he may have "lost" his phone. phase four was setting in and i just wanted to get the hell home to my kids. we left pretty early in the morning and the ride back to reality was daunting. my parents mentioned via phone that they had purchased tickets to a fall festival at a local tree farm. since we weren't around all weekend, we felt that we should go. as fen put it, "your parents are sadists! why would they get those tickets knowing you are nursing a major hangover?!" (i don't know.) so before packing up the car to head back to our home state...we had to deal with slides, train rides, and a ball pit. i was happy to be back with my kids, but organ failure was eminent and i really didn't want to die. moreover, the three hour car ride that followed is three hours of my life i would like back. both kids wanted to punish us for leaving them for the weekend (naturally), so neither of them slept. they took turns crying, laughing, yelling, and fighting. (fun!) in the middle of all this, butch turned to me and said, "....and you missed them." (i did!)

anyway, i guess the moral of the story is this (and always boils down to this): the experience of parenting is a far cry from what i thought it would be. i believe that when you have your first child, you lose a part of yourself, but as your children grow and become more independent you slowly get that part of yourself back. (like pieces of a puzzle coming back together.) some of those pieces were resurrected at chet's place, because breaks from parenting madness are very necessary. however, hightailing it to the woods for a weekend bender more than once a year is not recommended ever. (my organs agree.) kids can have you quoting braveheart...and make your heart ache all in one weekend. parenting is not for the fainthearted. this all being said, i very much prefer floating on a quiet pond with a beverage between my legs rather than feeding a goat on a saturday morning. however, hearing ella and carrie laugh their heads off as the smelly creature licked their hands was pretty awesome. pretty sure the fact that parenting can almost make you prefer farm animals to lazy mornings kayaking around a lake is pretty powerful stuff. although i still could've done without the smell of goat shit, because that's not good for anyone involved.

jumanji

let me start by saying that there are very few things (thus far) that my husband and i disagree on when it comes to parenting. we pretty much have the same philosophy when it comes to child rearing, which makes things pretty easy when it comes to our kids. i will say, though, if there are any arguments...that i win most battles in regards to these topics. i think he kinda trusts my judgement when it comes to children, mostly because a. i have been around kids my whole life and b. i teach young children everyday. anyways, i want to tell you about a recent disagreement that just happened this past week. most nights our routine goes as follows: i start making dinner around 4pm, we eat around 5pm, kids get a bath around 6pm (which butch does while i clean up dinner), they go to bed around 7:30pm. if you dropped by our house around these times, this is pretty basically what you would see most nights. (minus a few gliches here and there.)  monday was no different...except it was. when i came downstairs after folding some laundry, the kids were watching a bedtime show. however, when i walked into the living room it wasn't caillou, curious george, or one of the other many favorites that are played each evening. when i walked in the room, robin williams (may he rest in peace) was dancing across the screen in jungle garb. i realized quickly that the movie that was on was...jumanji.

the kids were engulfed in it and i just kinda gave butch a look like, "wtf?!" he shrugged his shoulders and said, "i DVR'd it a while ago for them. i think they like it." now i know jumanji is only rated PG. according to my search on the goog it states this: "PG stands for parental guidance. this means a film is suitable for general viewing, but some scenes may be unsuitable for young children. a PG film should not unsettle a child aged around eight or older. parents should consider whether the content may upset younger children." ok, with that in mind...there were some scary scenes happening, but i will say i was kinda relieved to not see that bald whiny bastard caillou on the screen. (i hate that kid.) actually, i loved the movie jumanji and we recently introduced the goonies to our kids with no adverse affects on them...so i snuggled in on the couch and we watched. carrie was in between my legs trying recreate the birth scene, and ella was gently wrapped around my neck. (like a noose.) first there were the crazy mosquitoes that attack the characters in the car. ella yelped, "woah! those 'SKITOS are huge. glad we don't have them in our backyard!" carrie pointed and grunted. then came the over sized spiders. ella squawked, "oh! the 'BITERS are huge, too!" (i will NEVER correct ella on the proper pronunciation of mosquitos or spiders...because it's too cute.) carrie was pointing, but didn't seem too scared. they were also laughing at parts and enjoying others...so we continued watching. i looked over at butch and said, "i really hope they don't have any "b-a-d d-r-e-a-m-s" (i spelled it.) because of this. he looked up from the laptop, waved his hand and said, "oh, they won't." (famous last words.)

when we finished up the movie and we went upstairs for teeth brushing and bedtime stories, i was really hoping he was right. we have been on one hell of a streak with nighttime sleep habits. i mean, minus the week that i went back to work they have been sleeping straight through. it's nice to feel like a normal human and not a zombie. when people tell you that you will never sleep the same way again after you have a kid, BELIEVE THEM. (i promise they are not bullshitting you.) we read goodnight moon for the umpteenth time and they both laid down without issues. i read a few chapters in my book and then laid down myself. i would say at approximately 2:43am, i was awoken out of a very deep sleep by what i can only describe as whimpering. i actually thought it was the dog at first. i listened for a little bit and wondered why the one next to me NEVER hears anything at all during the night. i swear a goddamn bulldozer could back in the bedroom and he'd still be rolling over and scratching his balls like nothing happened. i wake up for a whimper and he wakes up for...nothing. i sat up as the whimper turned into a cry and then i had to decipher who was making the noise. i surely didn't want to go into the wrong room and wake the other one up, so i waited. i was half asleep (and salty), but i made my way across the hall. i realized it was ella that was up, and now she was saying something...(over and over) between cries.

i tiptoed into her room, careful not to step on any lego or lincoln log bombs. (those sons of bitches HURT.) i made it to her bed unscathed and she was pulling at her ears. she said slash cried (and i quote), "the BUGS are crawling INTO my EARS!!" (OH MY GOD.) i had a moment. now remember...i was functioning with no contacts, one eye open, and was still half asleep. i whisper gasped, "WHAT!?" she repeated a little louder, "the BUGS ARE CRAWLING into my EARS!!" (SWEET MOTHER OF CHRIST!) i reached down and started running my hands on the side of her head, fully expecting to find some sort of critter. my heart started pounding and i started sweating, because i went from 0-60 and thought we would have to take her to the ER...because bugs were going to eat her brain. (i know, i'm nuts. it was the middle of the night.) i flipped on the light and said, "ELLA! i don't see any bugs!" she said (still crying), "well they are there!!" i went on, "do you have an earache??" (surely that had to be it?) she replied, "no. it's the bugs, mommy!" i was really starting to wig out, when i had a thought. certainly she had to be having a b-a-d d-r-e-a-m. (GODDAMN JUMANJI!) it was in this moment of realization that i wanted to run back over to our bedroom to my sleeping husband and double fist pound each of his testicles...i might also add cock shot for good measure. i know i agreed to the PG movie, but it was his idea in the first place...so surely it was solely his fault. (shut up.) i laid ella back down, assured her there were no 'skitos or 'biters climbing into her ears and thank god she went back to sleep.

fast forward to the moment where i was just drifting back into dreamland...and i heard more cries. this time it was carrie. (CRIPES!) sleeping beauty lay motionless next to me (of course) and did not bat one eyelash in the commotion. i flew out of bed this time and went over to my 2 year old's room. she is still in a crib, but was standing up when i entered. i said, "what's wrong?" she just cried...and then said..."juice." i shit you not, when she started the first syllable of the word, "ju..." i thought she was going to say "jumanji." i will also add that if she had said, "jumanji" and not "juice" my husbands man parts would be out of order at this very moment...because i would've physically assaulted him. because carrie isn't really talking much, i'm not sure if she just woke up thirsty for "juice." or had a b-a-d jumanji dream. either way, she was awake in the middle of the night for the first time in forever. (i blamed butch.) when i finally got her back to sleep it was approximately 4:23am. therefore, i had 67 more minutes to sleep before the alarm went off for the day. (super!) somehow, i drifted off and woke up like a spitting cobra at 5:30am. (venomous.) warren was in the shower and i walked into the bathroom. he caught one glimpse of me as he was coming out of the shower and said, "ummm...were they up last night? you look awful." here's a little tip to the men of the world, if you aren't sure whether your children were up in the middle of the night and your wife looks like hell....DON'T ASK. (just don't.) i just glared at him and said, "guess who had BAD. DREAMS?!...BOTH. of. them!!" (i wasn't sure about carrie, but wanted to make a point.)

he started laughing. laughing loudly. i was not laughing and the thought of spending the day with a bunch of fresh out of the summer kindergartners on no sleep. if i was going to survive i needed large amounts of coffee and was hoping i could push aside my spitting cobra routine. he laughed himself right out of the bathroom as i washed my face and applied makeup to the luggage under my eyes. (bags. huge ones.) we usually don't talk much in the morning, but as we made breakfast...the silence was kinda deafening. i needed someone other than myself to blame for the PG movie debacle, and he was the easiest target. so i didn't talk to him. at all. actually, had i tried to talk...making sentences at that moment might have been a struggle...so i said nothing. right before he was getting ready to leave my husband snuck up behind me and said something in a loud whisper, right into my left ear. it was (and i quote), "JUMANJI." i didn't crack at my cobra act, but he continued to whisper it in a super annoying voice from the kitchen, through the dining room, and out the front door..."JUMANJI, JUMANJI, JUMANJI..." (he thought he was really funny.) so i guess i learned my lesson when it comes to "content that may not be suitable for young children." or maybe it was just some random coincidence that ella would have a dream about bugs going into her brain and carrie would wake up the same night thirsty for some juice. (i don't know.) i do know, though, that i wish i had some real live oversized 'skitos or 'biters to put in our bed one night as a little surprise. quite certain they would actually startle my husband awake...who would be screaming and scratching much more than his ballsack in that moment. (payback.) hey, a girl can dream...and do believe that wouldn't be a bad one.

hide

so i have written a shit ton of posts about poop. (pardon my pun.) when you have little people running around your house, though, a bowel movement isn't just a bodily function anymore...it's an event. for the past 4 years, i've been up to my elbows in crap. my four year old was recently potty trained, but i still can't escape the wiping aspect. one time i let her "do it herself" and it looked like she had a crime scene in her underpants when she got undressed for bathtime that night. (no thanks.) it's either clean it up now, or clean it up later. (you can't win.) recently, my two year old has come into what i call the, "hide and go shit my pants" part of toddlerhood. it comes when kids realize what they are doing isn't exactly right and want privacy, but aren't quite ready to ride the porcelain throne. usually if it gets quiet around the house, i will look around for carrie and find her one of the many places her sister used to hide in order to do a number two. these places include (but are not limited to), the princess tent, behind the recliner, in a walk in closet upstairs, under her crib, and my most recent discovery was made while i was making dinner. i yelled upstairs to ella, "have you seen your sister!?" she yelled down in a sing songy voice, "noooo mommmmeee!!!" so i called for carrie again and became a little concerned when i didn't see her materialize before my eyes. imagine my surprise when i went into the pantry for a can of black beans and saw her in there looking very much caught. my pantry now doubles as a porta potty. (just perfect.)

pantry poop.

i also love how ella now needs to announce throughout the house that she is dropping a deuce. i often hear, "i'mmmmmm poooopppinnnggg!!!" being sung slash said out of the bathroom. yesterday i caught carrie in the bathroom with ella...and they were taking simultaneous shits. (sweet jesus.) i feel at this point in the game i am a connoisseur of crap. wanna know what really gets my goat? when i walk into the bathroom for something when ella is in there and she'll say (with a dead straight face), "i want some privacy." exxxccuuusssee me!? privacy! ha! i haven't had that since you were born little lady. you used to stare at me showering from your bouncy seat because i couldn't leave you alone for 2 minutes. i actually can't even be in the bathroom without you or your sister knocking on the damn door! you want privacy!? me too. ok...so i didn't say all that, i just walked out and shut the door...but i really, really wanted to. i will say it's funny, though, to see your kid sitting on the toilet. it's almost as if you potty trained your cat. sometimes in the morning if she is going to the bathroom and the door is open to our bedroom, i get startled to see her sitting here. like she's not supposed to be able to do that herself or something. (maybe that's just me.) anyways, i actually wouldn't be that surprised if i saw the cat sitting there...stranger things have happened in my world. carrie is like a crime scene investigator when ella is in bathroom. she walks around taking in all the details...and waiting to see if her sister is going to give her the grand privilege of flushing. this is a big deal in my house...the flushing that is. sometimes i feel like i'm on a game show called, "who gets to flush the feces!?" because they make such a big deal about it.

as a mother of two young ones, you already know that i have a doctorate in dirty diapers. (as documented by this post.) pretty sure i could change one with one eye closed and one arm behind my back. (pretty sure i have.) however, i often wonder if this is going to be just another one of those things that i miss. kids fly through stages so fast and they leave each one a little more independent. if i am suddenly missing shitty diapers one day though...someone please snap me out of it. i recently watched a baby that was not mine. although he (thankfully) didn't take a crap while he was in my care, i had flashbacks of when my two ladies were that little. as i held him, it was actually really hard to remember a time when they were so needy. now that they are more independent, it feels like sooooo long ago that they were drinking out of a bottle, unable to sit up unattended...crying for no apparent reason. (really though, it was just a coupla years ago.) i can't say that i "miss" those stages...but i do wonder why they flew by so fast. when you are in them, it feels like a lifetime is going by each day and then you blink and they are hiding behind the lazy boy and crapping their pants.

lazy boy poop.

i know soon that carrie will graduate from the hide and go shit my pants part of toddlerhood and be in pull ups and pooping on the potty. i also know i still have few more years of wiping asses that are not my own, i've accepted this as just another thing they don't tell you in the parenting books. ("i'm donnnnneeee!" -kids from the bathroom) the princess tent and pantry will soon not double as porta potties, either. there are a lot of things about parenting that are awesome and lots of things about it that are shitty. (like the poop.) i often explain it to people as the best and worst thing we have ever done. (becoming parents that is.) i may complain, but i never forget that fact that i have happy, healthy children. (bowel movements and all.) moreover, i hope to share this post someday with carrie's future prom date...let's just call it a poop payback. hopefully he will find it as hilarious as i do...and i pray (after being slightly embarrassed) she has enough sense to laugh as well, because one thing i've learned from my children is to not take yourself so seriously. so i strive on in the parenting plight and hold my head high. (pinching my nose with one hand.) i tackle each debacle head on and plan to persevere, even though sometimes i want to hide from the little people in my house in the princess tent...with a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn. at least one would hope i wouldn't be pooping my own pants in there, because then i'm pretty sure we would have a real problem.

princess tent poop.